


Breaking Seals

by Steangine



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bananajow, Blondjow, Human AU, M/M, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, a lots of beers, more or less, pee desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steangine/pseuds/Steangine
Summary: During a boring evening in a nightclub, Ichigo has an urgent need to use the toilet. However, someone else seems to be in his same condition.[small one shot, AU]





	Breaking Seals

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt directly from discord channel, idea of murderlight. Thanks for letting me use it!

That Saturday evening, Ichigo Kurosaki missed the perfect time to stay alone in his apartment and watch a movie on his bed eating chips until the sleep fell on him. Instead, he was sitting on a very uncomfortable sofa and listening to a very bothering noise that should have been music while drinking a very disgusting beer. The last of a long series of bottles he lined up on the table in front of him to defeat the boredom – a short but entertaining game, compared to the perspective of drifting himself into that sea of dangling bodies on the dancefloor.

He agreed to go because Renji insisted. The same Renji who disappeared into the crowd in less than two minutes, leaving Ichigo alone with some of his friends he had never seen before. Ichigo tried a conversation with the blonde one, Kira, but it ended up in an uncomfortable silence until another one, Shuuei, sat in between them and managed to make him talk for more than one minute. Ichigo was left aside. When the other two friends started making out on the other side of the sofa, Ichigo stood up and, after wasting his money on a cocktail which was 70% water and 29% fruit syrup and maybe 1% alcohol, began his long beer procession.

As the empty bottles of beer multiplied on the table, Renji’s friends left the sofa one after another, until Ichigo’s only company was that yellow piss which pretended to be beer. It was cheap, and it gave him the excuse to kill some time: standing up, walking slowly to the counter, indulging in re-reading the short list of available drinks, ordering the exact same thing, taking a sip while looking at the dancefloor, taking the longest road to go back and sitting down in wait for the circle to start again.

However, at a certain point, the circle snapped. It was a calculated consequence, even if Ichigo couldn’t predict that the toilet looked like a reproduction from one of those abandoned places which game developers loved to put in horror videogames; it stank as if someone truly died in there. He came back to the sofa in the same physical condition when he left and decided to stop drinking.

After a handful of minutes, Renji emerged from the crowd holding two beers.

“Huh, actually I’ve–”

“Come on.” Renji slammed the bottle on the table in front of him, some of the beer slid along the glass. “Don’t tell me you’re already drunk!” He pointed at the bottles on the table.

Renji was tipsy, Ichigo was too, but slightly less. He could have simply refused. But, of course, he couldn’t retreat in front of Renji’s buzzed smiled. He drank the beer and barely finished it when all of Renji’s friends came back as if someone summoned them. For some strange reason, there were more beers on the table and Ichigo already had another on his hand. He wobbled the bottle a bit and pretended to be interested in the person they were chatting about, even if Ichigo had no idea who that Sajin was.

“Hey, you okay? Don’t you drink?”

Yumichika’s smile looked sly at Ichigo’s eyes. He crossed his legs and brought the glass near his lips. “Everything okay.” Another beer. And they were still talking about people and stuff Ichigo didn’t know a single thing about.

The handful of minutes they claimed they wanted to take to refresh their throats became half an hour. Thirty minutes that Ichigo’s perception dilatated in one hour. He still had his legs crossed, firmly pressed one against another. Nobody truly paid any attention to him, as the music hammering inside the ears and the alcohol running to the head numbed their focus. If they had, they would have noticed the small gestures signing that Ichigo wasn’t peacefully relaxing together with them.

He switched more than once the legs, right on left, left on right, and back again. He kept adjusting the belt, which turned more and more uncomfortable as the minutes flew by. Instead of leaning peacefully against the backseat, he fidgeted, pressed his legs together, held his lower stomach with both hands.

When Renji swung an arm, pouring a whole drink on the table, Ichigo snapped. The liquid spread until the edge of the table, dripping on the floor right near his feet: his resistance to the physical urge of _breaking the seal_ overcame the disgust for that toilet forgotten by all the gods.  Ichigo stood up so fast that everybody’s attention shifted on him.

“Toilet.” He dismissed them trying to sound casual.

Despite his roaring desire of running, he didn’t rush to the toilet, but calmly measured every single step, planning his route among the unpredictable people to avoid any unwanted collision.

Ichigo avoided a woman he’d never met before who wanted to hug him and shifted aside to duck a man who was walking backwards while swinging both arms in the air failing to follow the rhythm of the music. Behind the bar, he spotted the sign of the men’s toilet and somehow felt like that was the best moment of the whole evening. He accelerated.

Few meters. He could see the door approaching. Just few steps. He could now distinguish the handle in the semi darkness enlightened by the dim lights from the dancefloor.

_ Thump _ .

Ichigo bounced into someone. His whole body trembled, the strength of the collision pooled under his stomach, and he clamped his legs trying to call all the self-control the alcohol didn’t send to sleep. He was close to falling into a very embarrassing situation, but somehow managed to block the downpour which was desperately knocking to finally flow away.

“Hey, idiot!”

The stranger growled at him. Ichigo glared back. Tall, broad shoulders, a deep angry frown, blond hair and blue eyes. A foreigner.

“You bumped into me!” Ichigo snarled back walking again towards the door. The man moved at the same time.

They collided again, with less intensity, and none of them backed away to let the other pass first. Both twisted their bodies to let themselves slither through the door, despite it could allow the passage of only one person at time. Ichigo was aware that he would have had it easier if only he let him take one step before, but the urge of reaching one urinal pressed more than the reason. They pushed themselves inside the toilet.

Both stood in front of the door, looking around at the countless man occupying every single free spot. Many different sounds of liquid falling into the water penetrated Ichigo’s ears, piercing directly inside his brain, which sent countless signals to his bladder. The sinks looked too inviting.

Then, Ichigo spotted one free urinal. Quite hidden in a corner, but still a perfect hole where he could release the desperation of his body. However, he wasn’t the only one who saw it. As he marched towards it, he realized the blonde man was right next to him. Ichigo fretted his steps. The foreigner fretted his too. Their arms bumped one against the other, in bland attempts of gaining the pole position to unzip their trousers.

“Watch your steps, carrot!”

“Watch yours, banana!”

They arrived together and realized that where they believed there was place for one, there was place for two. Not a single urinal in the corner, but two positioned by the hand of an engineer who probably had other thoughts the day he planned how to put those things into the wall: the one on the right side of the corner wasn’t at the proper distance and was so close that it almost blocked the way to the one on the left side. If two people were to _take care of their business_ at the same time, they couldn’t do it without any physical contact.

Ichigo glanced at the foreigner and was quite surprised as the foreigner was glancing at him as well. In a single instant, both realized that they were thinking the same: they needed those urinals and to use them, they had to be closer than they wanted to.

“Tch, fuck this shit!”

The foreigner started undoing his belt. His fingers urged to open it, he was in a hurry. Ichigo indulged only a second before imitating him and opened his trousers. Both moved again at the same time and their bodies collided. Their hips touched, their thighs brushed one against the other as both faced the respective urinals (Ichigo was too slow and took the one from the left).

“Move aside!”

“I can’t! You’re pressing on my leg!”

“Goddammit if I have to pee with this idiot rubbing his ass against me…”

“I’m not rubbing–ah, whatever!”

Ichigo ignored him and lowered his underwear.

He felt in paradise. He didn’t mind he was in the stinky toilet of a seedy nightclub he didn’t like with his ass rubbing against the ass of an asshole foreigner. His whole body relaxed, the tension of his muscles flowed away with his pee and the crystalline sound it made as it fell on the porcelain turned out to be the best music he heard during the whole evening.

He was so involved in that gratification of his senses, that he didn’t notice the foreigner was looking at him.

“What a long piss.”

“Huh?” Ichigo was taken aback and didn’t reply immediately. “The fuck you want? Mind your business.”

They met a handful of seconds later at the sinks. The foreigner was looking at them, the arms crossed against his chest. Ichigo wore his same disgusted expression as he glanced at what maybe many years before was a white surface. He couldn’t believe he was about to put his penis close to that filth.

Once again, Ichigo and the foreigner looked at each other.

Now that the urges of his body were satisfied, Ichigo’s brain could focus on something else which wasn’t holding the bladder tap closed to keep his pants safe and dry.

The man had messy hair which fell on his face due to the sweat. A face which was -there were no other words for it- fucking handsome: sharp clear eyes, a long straight nose, a strong jaw, and slightly pinkish lips. He resulted gorgeous even under the _mortuary_ lights of the toilet. Under the leather jacket, a skin-tight sweater outlined his large chest and flat stomach; same went for the jeans, which seemed too tight for his thighs and ass.

“What are you looking at?”

The foreigner snarled again and Ichigo found himself thinking that he wouldn’t have minded hearing that voice barking at him while kneeling between his strong legs.

“You want a blowjob?” The man continued with a hint of mockery in his voice.

Later, Ichigo would have said that the alcohol did most of the job. “Why not?” Usually, he would have just snarled back an insult, but the insulter was sexy enough to swim with the stream, and he drank enough to ignore that part of him which didn’t follow the instructions of common sense.

His reply surprised the foreigner. His eyes widened, and he looked like he didn’t know what to reply. Ichigo thought that he could have punched him in the face, yelling some homophobic insult at his body lying on the grungy floor of the toilet.

Instead, he shrugged. “I know a place nearby where we can go.”

Kurosaki Ichigo left the dancefloor to have a good fuck with a (sexy) stranger he met while taking a piss.

The mobile phone rang five times. At the sixth, Ichigo grabbed it and forced himself to open his eyes. It was Renji.

“Ichigo!”

His loud voice hurt his right ear.

“W-what…?”

“Were you sleeping? Are you at home?”

“…I sent you a message.”

“What?” For few seconds, Ichigo’s ear was blessed by the background noise of the cars running in the street, then Renji yelled again. “Oh shit! You’re right!”

Ichigo hung up on him and put on the silent mode. He cursed himself for not thinking about that earlier. Even if, when he had the chance to do it, his whole being was focused on the marvellous body that would have repeatedly fucked him against every single piece of furniture in the room of the love hotel they took for the night.

He lazily turned on the opposite side. The foreigner (he said his name was Grimmjow) was lost in a deep sleep, curled on his side and with both hands holding the pillow; the blanket only covered him up to the waist, so Ichigo had a good view of his muscled back and of the black gothic six tattooed right over his ass. Ichigo could have associated that peaceful view at a sort of cuteness, if only his mind didn’t associate his slightly disclosed lips to the best blow job he received in his whole life. And to the countless hickeys left on every side of his body.

Ichigo sat down on the bed, his head slightly heavy due to the lack of sleep. However, he stood up and wobbled his way to the toilet. It was clean, and this time he could wash his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Grimmjow is a banana.


End file.
